


(Not) The Worst First Date

by kitkatt0430



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cisco is good at taking care of people, Fluff, Hartley has the flu, M/M, Pansexual Cisco Ramon, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatt0430/pseuds/kitkatt0430
Summary: It finally happened.  Hartley and Cisco had their big damn kiss and even set up their first date.  So, naturally, Hartley gets the flu.  It figures really since, with his luck, Hartley can’t have nice things… or maybe he can, because Cisco is amazing.





	(Not) The Worst First Date

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely 4th season but not really.

Hartley woke up with a headache.

This wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence since the particle accelerator explosion. Mostly Hartley remembered to turn down the input on his hearing aids at night, but not always. So sometimes he’d wake up to the sound of Jared and Jessica marathoning sex like rabbits on the weekends or Alice’s music on a little too loud (at least she had good taste in musicians) or Mark rehearsing for his latest play (he was in a noir themed detective story this time and had the lead role… which didn’t say anything good about the quality of the production at all).

Usually waking up like that was generally accompanied by a pounding at his temples and behind his eyes that meant he needed to turn down the sensitivity on his aids, take some aspirin, drink some chamomile tea, and let Cisco and Caitlin know he’d be an hour late into work. If the extra hour didn’t help him, nothing would, and he’d power through a day at STAR Labs anyway.

Unfortunately, this headache did not seem to be following the normal script.

Hartley turned down his aids only to realize the sound of his alarm went away entirely. Turning the sound back up to normal levels made Hartley aware of a churning feeling in his stomach, which turning off the alarm didn’t ease in the least. Casting off his covers, Hartley stumbled into his bathroom just in time to kneel over the toilet and start puking. As horrible as it was to throw up when there was actual food in the stomach, Hartley always thought it was ten times worse when it was just bile. When he could catch his breath and pull away, his throat burned and his mouth tasted acidic.

He stumbled to his feet, flushing the toilet before turning to the sink to rinse out his mouth. Then he brushed his teeth to get rid of the worst of the gross fuzziness, acid and morning mouth. (No toothpaste though; he could get rid of the taste in his mouth with mouthwash easily enough, but the gritty texture of the toothpaste would probably send him straight back to the toilet). When he was done and reaching for his thermometer, another problem made itself known and suddenly he was back on the toilet, albeit sitting on it this time as his stomach made its displeasure known again but in the opposite direction.

By now he was shaking with cold and Hartley knew he had a fever running even without the thermometer still sitting in his medicine cabinet. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but he knew he needed to drink something – there might be a power drink in the kitchen, Hartley couldn’t remember if he’d finished the last of it earlier that week, and there might be soup but none of it was the kind of soup that would be easy on his stomach.

At least there was cold and flu medicine sitting next to the thermometer. There was one thing Hartley didn’t have to worry about.

First, though, Hartley needed to stop running at both ends.  But his body was convinced that he needed to flush out his system and he sort of lost track of time until he was sitting on the floor shivering in his robe and trying to figure out if he was finally done or if he needed to lean back over the toilet seat one more time.

His stomach steadied and Hartley’s brain took that moment to register the fact that there was a big problem with having the flu today.  It was the reason he hadn't realized that the queasiness in his stomach the night before was something other than just nerves.

He was supposed to be meeting Cisco for dinner and a movie this evening on their first official date. Now Hartley was going to have to cancel.

Sometimes Hartley absolutely hated his life.

So Hartley clambered to his feet and zombie shuffled over to his phone. Then he went right back into the bathroom, sticking the thermometer in his mouth, settling back onto the floor in case his stomach flipped out again.  Still shaking with feverish chill, he held up the phone and stared at Cisco’s number, scenario after scenario running through his head.

Maybe Cisco would be upset that Hartley was canceling. Disbelieving, even, that Hartley was really sick. He’d just think that this was Hartley finally reverting to being a jerk and that would be the end of everything. All of which amounted to behavior that would be thoroughly out of character for Cisco, but in Hartley’s fever addled mind it all made perfect sense. The only boyfriend who’d ever been around Hartley while he was sick had been Earl and he had treated Hartley like his being sick was an imposition on his life that should be minimized as much as possible. Hartley couldn’t remember his parents ever looking after him when he was sick as a child. It was his nannies who’d held his hand and tended to his fevers. It was the family stewards who’d fetch him home from school on the occasion he was too ill to make it through the whole day. His boyfriends after Earl… Hartley hadn’t let them near him when he was sick and they were happy to accept that he could take care of himself.

No one ever seemed to really know what to do with Hartley when he was sick, aside from shove him aside and demand he make as few complaints as possible. So that’s what he assumed would happen again.

The phone was ringing. Hartley didn’t recall hitting the call button, but apparently he had.

“Hey Hartley,” was Cisco’s cheerful greeting a few moments later.

“Cisco,” Hartley rasped out in response, relief and dread settling on his shoulders in equal amounts. He didn’t want to cancel their date. He wanted to feel better and watch _Thor: Ragnarok_ at the dollar theater and enjoy the warmth that came from holding Cisco’s hand.

“Are you okay? You sound terrible?” Cisco sounded worried.

“I think I have the stomach flu,” Hartley told him miserably. “Rain check on tonight?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. Do you need anything?” There was the sound of something being dropped and a soft, muffled curse on Cisco’s end. “Never mind, what kind of Gatorade do you like best?”

“Lemon-lime,” Hartley responded, a little dazed because… Cisco wasn’t offering to take care of him… was he? Of course not. That was ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?

“Cisco, you don’t need to come here. I don’t want you getting sick too,” Hartley added the last part as an afterthought, since mostly Hartley didn’t want to be a burden.

“I’ll be fine. I got my flu shot last month,” Cisco said blithely. “Hmmm, so power drinks and chicken soup for you, whatever microwavable stuff looks good to me,” he mumbled softly and then, louder, “do you have any medicine?”

“Some...” Hartley hadn’t actually taken any yet and he wasn’t sure if it had expired yet.

“Go check,” Cisco told him. “If its expired, or there isn’t enough, I’ll pick up some more of the same brand.”

Hartley blinked at his phone for a moment because he seriously didn’t remember saying anything about the medicine out loud. But then Cisco asked him if he was checking the medicine yet, so Hartley stood up and grabbed the box. He turned it around in his hands a few times before his eyes focused on the date pressed into one of the flaps. “Umm… it isn’t expired, but there isn’t much left in the box,” he announced, feeling kind of dizzy.

“Okay. Hartley, take one dose and drink some water. What’s the brand?”

“It’s just generic,” Hartley told him, pulling out one of the blister packs for the day medicine. He poked at it a few times before concluding that he probably needed scissors for this and whose bright idea was it to make sure that people who were hazy with fever needed sharp implements to reach their medicine?

“Do you realize you’re thinking out loud?” Cisco asked, laughing softly.

“I am?  That's... weird.” Hartley blinked and then grabbed his fingernail scissors out of the drawer.  He stared thoughtfully at the medicine for a moment and then at the door to the living room (the bathroom had two entrances: living room and bedroom) and the kitchen beyond that… where there were glasses. Or plastic cups which, in his current haze, were probably safer.

Reluctantly, Hartley began the dizzying trek to the kitchen.

“Stop by the front door and unlock it first, that way you don’t have to get up when I get there,” Cisco told him.

Hartley frowned, but did as asked, wondering if he’d been rambling out loud again.

Once the door was unlocked and Hartley had a plastic cup full of water, he swallowed down the medicine with the water. His stomach churned unhappily.

“Oh, wait, do you have any crackers?” Cisco asked.

“I think so,” Hartley told him, reaching for his pantry. Low and behold, a mostly full box of crackers sat on the second shelf. “Yes, I do.”

“Try to at least nibble on a few and drink some more water. If you don’t think you can, that’s fine, but it’ll make the medicine easier on your stomach if you manage to eat some and keep it down.”

Hartley wrinkled his nose because his stomach was all kinds of unhappy at the moment, but Cisco actually wanted to take care of him – no one ever wanted to take care of him – and Hartley didn’t want him to change his mind… so he’d try.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Cisco murmured softly, sounding… actually, Hartley wasn’t sure he could place that emotion right now. “Anyway, go back to bed, try to munch on a few crackers, drink some water, and I will be there soon.”

“Thanks Cisco,” Hartley said and then let the connection cut. As he curled into bed, he glanced over at the bathroom and realized that he hadn’t actually checked to see what his temperature was when he used the thermometer. He couldn’t even remember when he took it out of his mouth or where he’d put it down. Probably by the sink, though… he doubted, even in this state, he’d leave it on the floor. Oh well. He could check again when Cisco was here.

A small smile worked its way onto Hartley’s face at the thought of getting to see Cisco after all.

* * *

 

It was with reluctance that Cisco ended the call with Hartley.

On the one hand, it really sucked that they couldn’t have their date after all. On the other hand, Hartley was adorable when he rambled. On the other, other hand… some of Hartley’s rambling pointed towards him having lived a pretty lonely life surrounded mostly by people who wanted to use him. Which Cisco kind of already knew, but being reminded by a rambling, feverish Hartley who was desperate not to be alone was…

Cisco kind of wanted to yell at someone, like Hartley’s parents. When Hartley wasn’t hiding behind his prickly shell and trying to scare people away so that they wouldn’t hurt him, Hartley was warm and kind and adorably nerdy. How dare anyone make Hartley feel afraid and unloved.

Mostly, though, it made Cisco want to hold Hartley and promise that he’d never be hurt by anyone ever again because Cisco would protect him… which would, given the whole superhero thing, be a promise he probably couldn’t keep.  At least, the 'never being hurt again' part.  With his powers, Cisco could do the 'protecting' thing surprisingly well these days.

So Cisco headed out the door of his apartment, made a quick stop at a convenience store to fill his list of supplies, and then drove to the visitors section of Hartley’s apartment parking lot. There was one thing he could do for Hartley, after all – a promise he could most definitely keep in its entirety. He could make sure Hartley felt loved and safe.

When he knocked at the door to Hartley’s apartment, he wasn’t surprised not to hear an answer. But the door opened easily enough when Cisco tried it, so at least Hartley really had unlocked the door for him as asked.

Cisco dropped his supplies off on the kitchen counter and pulled out one of the little Gatorade bottles before stowing everything else away. He struggled over getting the top off, the indentions on the side rubbing painfully along his palm until he finally gave in and used a towel. Then he pulled out a plastic cup, filled it with ice, and poured in the lemon-lime flavored drink.

Drink in hand (and resolving to come back for a large bowl if Hartley seemed like he was still in the throwing up stage of things), Cisco went to check on Hartley. He peeked in the bathroom first, just in case, but Hartley was, fortunately, not in there. Instead, Hartley was asleep in his bed, an open roll of crackers and a half-empty glass of water on the table beside him. Cisco made room for the drink he’d brought in and then darted over to the bathroom, snagging the thermometer and the little plastic covers that came with it – thermometer condoms, basically – and popped one onto the thermometer.

Settling onto the edge of the bed, Cisco shook Hartley’s shoulder to wake him. “Hart? I need you to wake up, okay?”

Hartley moaned pitifully and curled in on himself.

“I know, bae, but I need to check your temperature and have you drink something so you don’t get too dehydrated, okay? Last thing either of us want is for you to have to go to the hospital.” Cisco paused and then frowned. “You didn’t turn the sensitivity of your hearing aids all the way down, did you?” He didn’t really expect an answer and so was pleasantly surprised when he got one after all.

“No,” Hartley grumbled. “Can hear you.” He looked up at Cisco pitifully. “I didn’t feel this awful when the accelerator exploded.”

“You need to sit up for a while, okay?” Cisco grabbed the spare pillow from the other side of the bed and fluffed it, then helped Hartley sit up so that the blond wouldn’t try to burrow under the covers again. He then fluffed the other pillow and used them both to prop Hartley up when as he gently leaned his boyfriend back towards the headboard. “First, I want to take your temperature.” He waved the thermometer in front of Hartley’s face, grinning when Hartley scowled and snatched it away, pressing the on button before sticking the plastic sheet covered end in his mouth.

Hartley looked adorable, pouting without his glasses on, and Cisco had to resist the urge to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair. Then he had to resist the urge to grin like an idiot because Hartley was his adorable boyfriend and even just thinking the word ‘boyfriend’ in relation to himself and Hartley made Cisco feel all warm inside.

Cisco slid his right hand over to hold Hartley’s while he used his left to lightly brush hair away from Hartley’s face, turning his palm away in order to guess by touch just what the thermometer would soon be telling him. Hartley was hot to the touch and his eyes flickered shut for a moment as he leaned in against the back of Cisco’s hand.

There was a soft beep and Cisco snatched the thermometer out of Hartley’s mouth. 101.7 blinked at him. Not quite hospital time yet, but if it went up too much more or stayed steady for too long… Cisco did not want to imagine what being sick with super hearing at a hospital would be like for Hartley. All the beeping instruments and chatter in the hallways. But if Hartley got too dehydrated or too feverish…

Maybe he should call Caitlin, ask her to be on standby just in case. STAR Labs would be better for Hartley than an emergency room, right?

“Here, think you can drink some of this for me?” Cisco reached over and picked up the glass he’d brought in with him. Hartley nodded affirmatively, but his hands were shaking a little, so Cisco kept a hold on it to keep it from sloshing over the sides. Still, Hartley managed to drink it – slowly – and there was a good amount gone by the time Hartley finished.

Cisco set the glass aside and then slid his hand back into Hartley’s, idly rubbing his thumb soothingly against Hartley’s wrist. “How do you feel?”

“Nauseous, but not like I need to run to the bathroom,” Hartley muttered, looking down. His face, already flushed with fever, reddened a bit more in embarrassment. “A little more coherent than when I called you,” he added, which Cisco took to mean that Hartley’s fever had probably been higher during the call.

“No more thinking out loud, huh?”

Hartley gave him an annoyed look that was only sort of deserved. “I’m really cold,” he muttered after a moment, looking away again.

“Right, let’s get you back under the covers.” Cisco rearranged Hartley’s pillows again so that he was still at an incline, but not really sitting up, and glanced around. “Got any more blankets around. You’ll probably be shoving them off after a few minutes, but...” he shrugged helplessly.

“There’s a few at the top of the closet,” Hartley told him. But when Cisco stood up, Hartley wouldn’t let go of Cisco’s hand at first. Then, realizing what he was doing, Hartley let go quickly and stared down at the duvet.

Cisco smiled fondly and headed over to the closet, retrieving the two quilts on the shelf. He dropped one by the door to take over to the couch – he’d need it tonight since he definitely wasn’t going anywhere until at least the next morning – and then tucked the other one around Hartley on the bed.

“Better?” Cisco asked softly, sitting back down.

Hartley nodded and latched back on to Cisco’s hand. “M’tired,” he muttered, “will you stay until I fall asleep?”

“I’m staying until you’re well enough to take care of yourself,” Cisco told him, brushing his fingers through Hartley’s hair again. “So, you know, gotta see how comfy that couch is for tonight. I’ll be checking on you every half hour until I’m sure your fever is going down and then I’ll just hang out making sure you actually eat instead of sleeping the whole day away.” He grinned when Hartley smiled sleepily at him.

“The couch pulls out,” Hartley told him, eyes closing. He was asleep in minutes, but Cisco sat there a little while longer, just to be sure that Hartley’s sleep wasn’t uneasy.

* * *

 

Hartley could hear the soft sound of the television from the other room – sounded like _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ – and smiled, putting on his glasses and glancing at the time on the clock, which read 3:26 pm. He’d been sleeping on and off all afternoon, waking up whenever Cisco checked on him to either drink some more Gatorade or eat some soup around noon.

He still felt like crap, but… Cisco was here and Hartley wanted to be where Cisco was. So he shoved off the covers – it was too hot anyway, even with the quilt already knocked to the floor – and pulled on his robe before shuffling over to his bedroom door.

Cisco was sprawled out on the couch – Hartley’s other spare quilt draped over the back – laughing quietly as Ron Weasley freaked out over following the spiders.

“You know, some people think butterflies are terrifying too,” Hartley mused thoughtfully. “And considering all the bizarre creatures in the magical world, there are probably poisonous butterflies that are 10 feet tall and eat people.”

“He should be more careful what he wishes for,” Cisco agreed with a grin, hopping off the couch and strolling over to Hartley. “Feeling better? Because you look like you’re feeling a little better.”

Hartley nodded and Cisco pressed the back of his hand against Hartley’s forehead to gauge his temperature. Cisco’s touch felt so nice that Hartley couldn’t help but lean into him a little, giving a little sigh of contentment.

“Feels like your fever’s gone down,” Cisco murmured, toying with Hartley’s hair for a few moments before sliding his arm down around the blond’s shoulders. “Want to finish the movie with me?”

“Yes.” Hartley let Cisco lead him around to the couch and settled there with him, snuggled against Cisco’s chest. He had the movies – and books – pretty much memorized already at this point, so he was listening more to the sound of Cisco’s heartbeat than to what was happening on the screen.

“So, you don’t get to make fun of me for being a Potter fan anymore,” Cisco told him. “You’ve got, like, the super-special-awesome editions of all the movies. You’re an even bigger fan of the series than I am.”

“Super-special-awesome?” Hartley repeated dryly.

“Yeah. Oh, no… you’ve never seen _Yu-Gi-Oh Abridged_ , have you?”

“I haven’t even seen it un-abridged,” Hartley agreed.

“That… that is a travesty. Seto Kaiba was my first anime crush… which explains so much about why I like it when you’re sarcastic, now that I think about it...” Cisco hummed to himself, adding in an undertone, “but I am no Joey Wheeler. Just… no.” Louder, he asked, “so why’d Harry Potter resonate with you so much?”

“I never really fit in at school. Partly because my parents had me skip grades, partly because being a closeted gay kid at a Catholic private school is always going to suck. Hermione was basically who I wanted to be,” Hartley admitted quietly, enjoying the way Cisco was running his fingers up and down along his arm. “My parents didn’t approve of the books because of the witchcraft, never mind that even the priests who ran the school were reading the series – though they generally read anything they thought was popular with the students to determine what was or wasn’t appropriate for the school. I had to wait for them to show up at the library and use stretchy book covers to keep the real covers hidden. Probably for the best. If I’d had copies to leave behind when I was disowned or even sell after I started living in my car when I left Earl...” he trailed off when Cisco’s grip on him tightened for a moment. “I’d have been heartbroken,” he finished quietly. “First thing I did after I moved into my first apartment was buy my own copies from a second hand store. I kind of liked the worn feeling they had to them, like they’d been read a few dozen times already.

“It was just… nice reading about a kid whose family thought he was a freak finding a place where he was special.” Hartley paused and then added, “made me feel like maybe being gay wasn’t really a bad thing after all. Gave me hope that, one day, I’d finally find somewhere I could fit in… which I have, now.”

“Oh, Hart,” Cisco breathed out, pressing a kiss against Hartley’s forehead.

“So, yeah, the Harry Potter series is really important to me.”

“I identified with Ron,” Cisco said after a long moment. “Dante was always the one who stood out. He was the talented one and I was the misfit always taking things apart to see what made them work. He played piano concerts and got scholarships from schools and praise from mom and dad. I got asked when I was going to stop wasting time on those ‘useless’ computer science courses and obviously I only got Cisco certified in high school because of the name and not because the certification is actually really useful to have for some of the careers I was considering. So, I guess the books gave me hope that things would get better too. That, eventually, I’d be seen as special on my own merits.”

Hartley snuggled closer. “There’s supposed to be a convention in a few months,” he noted. “I bet we could make some awesome LED wand replicas.”

“What’s your house?”

“Ravenclaw. You?”

“Hufflepuff.”

“Suits you.” Hartley yawned. “You’re all about the ‘power of friendship’.”

“Yet another reason why you should watch _Yu-Gi-Oh_ , it’ll explain so many catch-phrases I like. Power of friendship, heart of the cards, super-special-awesome… well, that last one is from the abridged version.”

Hartley could hear Cisco’s smile in his voice and had to laugh. “Maybe we can watch some next weekend?”

“Sounds good to me,” Cisco agreed.

“Might fall asleep on you,” Hartley told him, eyes already shutting and the sounds of the movie blurring in his ears. Cisco might’ve replied, but his voice was blurred as well, until all that Hartley really knew was the soothing sound of Cisco’s heartbeat thudding in his ears.

* * *

 

When _Chamber of Secrets_ came to an end, Cisco started running through the featurettes instead of moving on to _Prisoner of Azkaban_. Changing movies would have meant getting up, after all, and getting up would have meant potentially jostling Hartley awake.

But by the time 5:00 rolled around, Cisco was getting kind of uncomfortable and his right leg was asleep. He kissed Hartley lightly on the forehead and then shook him awake.

“Hmmm?” Hartley struggled to sit up and then looked around blearily. “What time is it?”

“Five.” Cisco stretched out his legs and then grimaced as his right leg tingled with pins and needles. “I figured I’d reheat the rest of the soup from lunch for you while you take a shower.”

“I should clean the bathroom too,” Hartley mused, glancing over at the door with a resigned expression.

“Nope, I already did that. I had to use it earlier and cleaned it first to get rid of all your flu germs.” Cisco squirmed uncomfortably under Hartley’s sudden, sharp stare. “What?”

“I’m just… trying to figure out what I did to deserve you. I’m coming up empty.”

“You’re the Hermione to my Ron,” Cisco teased. “Go shower, you smell like you’ve spent all day sick.”

Hartley just stuck his tongue out in response and then headed off to the bathroom, presumably to shower as told.

Cisco swapped out movies, letting _Prisoner of Azkaban_ start up as he set aside Hartley’s soup, figuring he could wait for the sound of the shower to cut off before actually zapping it in the microwave. He was trying to decide which of the remaining microwavable meals would be his dinner – though he wasn’t really hungry yet, he figured he might as well pick one now – when his phone started ringing over by the couch.

Checking the caller-id, he answered, “hey Caitlin.”

“How’s your patient doing?” she asked.

“Much better. Like I said in my texts, he kept lunch down and he’s had plenty of Gatorade. He came out and joined me for my _Harry Potter_ marathon earlier and his fever is way down. It’s about time for more medicine, but its also time for more soup, so I’m gonna push both on him when he gets out of the shower. And I still plan on staying the night on his couch tonight.”

“Sounds like you’re on top of things,” Caitlin said, sounding oddly… wistful.

“You okay, Cait?” Cisco asked quietly.

“Yeah, just… Ronnie and I used to take care of each other when one of us was sick and I just… remembered how nice that felt. Being cared for… having someone to take care of… not the being sick part, of course. But the rest of it.”

“I know what you mean. Hartley being sick is awful, but… he trusts me to take care of him and its a really nice feeling.” He paused a beat and then added, “thank you for agreeing to take care of Hartley if he needed to get treated for dehydration. I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of putting him through all the noise of a hospital on top of everything else.”

“He’s my friend too,” Caitlin replied. “The only way I’d let him suffer through a hospital visit is if I was too sick to take care of him myself. Pretty sure Frost agrees with that sentiment too.”

The sound of the water in the pipes cut off, signaling the end of Hartley's shower.

“Tell Frost thanks too, then,” Cisco replied, keeping his ambivalence about his best friend’s alter-ego out of his voice as best he could. Killer Frost was growing on him, but he still couldn’t quite shake the memory of the vision of her freezing off his hands. Much like with the vibe he had of EoWells using the vibrating hand-of-doom attack back when his powers were just starting to manifest, Cisco knew it would take time before the echoes of aborted bad timelines stopped plaguing his dreams enough to let him put the whole thing behind him.

“Anyway, Hart’s out of the shower so I’m gonna nuke the soup. I’ll call, or text, if he backslides, okay?”

“Alright. Tell Hartley I hope he feels better in the morning.”

“Got it. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Cisco hung up the phone and popped Hartley’s saran-wrap covered soup bowl into the microwave. Moments later, the bedroom door opened and Hartley poked his head out.

“Caitlin says ‘hi’ and ‘feel better’,” Cisco told him dutifully.

“That was nice of her.” He paused a beat, then said, “I think I’m actually hungry. The soup actually smells good.” Which was very much an improvement from Hartley’s late lunch time where he didn’t really feel one way or the other and was listless as he ate the half-a-bowl Cisco had insisted on.

“Think you could handle some Sprite instead of Gatorade? For variety?”

“Yes.” Hartley smiled – not quite up to the standards of a full-on Hartley beam of adorable-ness, but impressively cheerful looking for someone who’d spent the morning puking his guts out – and he disappeared back into his room again before shuffling back out to the couch wearing a Star Trek Enterprise blueprint t-shirt (that Cisco had gotten him for Christmas the year before), black and green plaid pajama pants, a plain teal fuzzy robe and…

“Your slippers...”

“Yes?”

“Pikachu slippers?”

“They’re so soft and fluffy.” Hartley was smirking now.

“How did you ever manage to fool me into thinking you weren’t just as much of a fandom nerd as I am? Seriously?” Cisco shook his head and sighed.

Hartley just laughed, though, and settled on the couch, waiting patiently as Cisco brought him the microwaved soup, some more crackers, Sprite and another dose of medicine. Crinkling his nose at the sight of the night-time blue pills instead of the day-time red, Hartley sighed reluctantly and then downed the meds with his soda.

“In about half an hour I’m going to pass out on you,” he warned Cisco. “That stuff hits me hard. Benedryl does it too for some reason.”

“Good, you need the rest.”

“I feel like all I’ve really done today is throw up and sleep,” Hartley grumbled, though he paused to take a bite or two of soup before adding, “I wanted us to be having a nice date right about now. I’m sorry...”

“Hey. So we’re not eating out somewhere or headed towards the theater for a movie. But we are getting to spend time together and watch _Harry Potter_ and I’m spending the night tonight, so breakfast is totally gonna be a thing.”

“Yeah, spending the night on the couch.” Hartley pouted. “I’d rather you in my bed.” He made a valiant effort at leering at Cisco, but was clearly just too tired to do so properly.

The effect was incredibly cute and Cisco wanted desperately to cuddle him. He settled for ruffling his boyfriend’s hair and grinning when Hartley gave him an offended look complete with his hair sticking up every which way in the most endearing fashion.

“Next time,” Cisco promised him. “Our next date, if you want me in your bed I am so there, any way you want me.”

“Definitely not a matter of ‘if’,” Hartley replied, smiling again.

“Anyway, I had a point before you distracted me with promises of sexy-times, which is… this isn’t the worst first date. Really,” he insisted at the sight of Hartley’s disbelieving stare. “It’s awful that you’re sick and that we can’t kiss - ‘cause I really like kissing you, you are an amazing kisser – but… just being together is really nice.” He cringed a little. “Okay, fine,” Cisco sighed, “tell me I’m being sappy.”

“Well, you are,” Hartley agreed, but he was also blushing and ducking his head a little. “But its… no one ever really… I...” he looked away entirely, spoon twirling idly in the soup. “It is nice being together. That… you want to be here and take care of me… that you don’t think me being unwell is an… an imposition.”

“Mi corazón,” Cisco muttered, not quite sure how else to convey his feelings as he reached out to hold Hartley’s left hand with both of his own.

“Does that count as a different pet name from calling me ‘Hart’?”

“Um… maybe?”

Hartley met Cisco’s eyes steadily. “I like it.”

“Got any pet names for me yet?"  Cisco paused a beat and then added, "and, no, Cisquito doesn’t count.”

“Mi cielo, mon paradis, mein Himmel, caelum mihi, anata wa watashi no tengokudesu,” then, with the last two words, Hartley signed and spoke at the same time, “my heaven.” Hartley smiled, nervous and flushed in a way that absolutely set Cisco’s pulse racing. The way he said those words… like he was saying something else entirely. “But also Cisquito. That totally counts.”

“If you hadn’t had a temperature of over a hundred all morning, I’d be kissing you right now. Like, touring your mouth with my tongue as enthusiastically as possible type kissing.”

Hartley just ducked his head again and returned to his soup, letting the sounds of _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ wash over them both.

As predicted, half an hour after taking his flu medication, Hartley started nodding off. Cisco helped him stumble back to bed and tucked him in, sitting there for a while even after Hartley fell asleep, carding his fingers lightly through the other man’s hair.

When he stood up to finally head back into the other room and have his own dinner, Cisco paused and brushed a kiss against Hartley's forehead, murmuring softly, “I love you too, Hart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Mi corazón – My heart (Cisco was being the bilingual version of punny)  
> Mi cielo – My heaven  
> Mon paradis – My heaven (again)  
> Mein Himmel – My heaven (this is about where Hartley realized he wanted to say something else…)  
> Caelum mihi – My heaven (here his voice probably wavered, ‘cause Hartley wants to say ‘I love you’ but even if he weren’t afraid that its too soon, the words just get stuck in his throat ‘cause he’s not ready to say it yet anyway)  
> Anata wa watshi no tengokudesu – You are my heaven (Japanese being the language Hartley is weakest with, he went with a wordier translation to be sure that his intent was clear even if he’s a little iffy on the wording and/or pronunciation) 
> 
> Please correct me if Google Translate failed me on any of those.
> 
> * * *
> 
> So, Hartley is supposed to speak six languages (according to Cisco) and the ones we know from the show are: English, Spanish, French, Latin, and Japanese. This, however, is only five languages, and his pronunciation of Japanese is hilariously awful. Enough that I'm not sure it actually counts as one of the languages Hartley's fluent in. I generally headcanon across all my Hartley stories that the actual list of languages is more like this: fluent - English, Spanish, French, German, Latin, and ASL and not-fluent - Japanese, Portuguese, Elvish, and Klingon. Though in the case of this story, Japanese has almost reached the point of scooting over into the 'fluent' list. He doesn't admit to knowing the two nerd languages unless he's really comfortable with someone... but I like to imagine at some point Hartley, Cisco, and Barry (maybe Caitlin too) go to a _Star Trek_ convention together where Hartley winds up in an argument in Klingon with a Klingon cos-player and it turns out they're debating _Hamlet_ vs. _Klingon Hamlet_ or one of Shakespeare's other plays that have been given the Klingon treatment, like _Much Ado About Nothing_. After which, of course, neither Barry nor Cisco will ever again let Hartley pretend he isn't the biggest fandom nerd.


End file.
